in this tender night

an unfortunate incident worth noting:

david fedderly: have you ever lost someone close to you?
me: yes.

this was on tuesday, two days after attending my great-grandmother's funeral. now of course, he didn't know that he was touching on a nerve as live as an exposed telephone cable. but there i was, in my lesson, doing everything in power to keep myself from erupting in tears. not surprisingly, though, i played better. whether or not roger's piece was as he was describing, it mattered to me all of a sudden. it meant something.

now this is an adage that is all too familiar. music is supposed to convey every experience, every emotion and its our job as musicians to make that audible and palpable to the audience. this concept is something that came much more naturally to me years ago, when i was less afraid to confront my emotions through my playing (save performing on stage, which i guess, is all that matters --- i get really emotional and raw on stage, it seems) and he's been pushing me to the edge, one that really frightens me. but i think, at least i hope, that its necessary.

my great-grandmother's death was a huge blow to me. a friend of mine said to me, "do they even make great-grandparents anymore?" and it was a fair thing to note. i guess a little family history was needed: my grandparents died when i was young and therefore, when everyone was young --- my mother, my uncle and my great-grandmothers. i think we all took the places of loved ones lost. they were my new grandmothers. my father remarked to me that he thought it was funny that there were more pictures of me in my great-grandmother's house than almost anyone. more of me then in my own house. i was the baby. and then that part of my life was gone.

i've talked about death before and i don't mean to go into a great deal of detail. i just think it was important to note the connection between those parts of my life. they are, forever, inextricably linked. hopefully, conveying that emotion to the audience will help me find a peace i've been looking for these past few days.

tell me again, what is the name of this place? ohio. it means "beautiful".

you know, some things just never work out right, or the way you want them to. and personally, when it happens over and over again, i tend to get suspicious. i will give you an example. i have just come back from a long weekend in cincinnati, which was wonderful, by all accounts. and just when i thought i was going to make it through unscathed, i get a call from my parents telling me that my great-grandmother had passed away that morning. and cue imani's guilt factor! i have a happy habit of being away, trying to act like a normal human being and have fun when someone close to me dies. true, one has nothing to do with the other but there are other circumstances. let's just say i've never been able to handle it very well.

but that's not really the point of this post. even with that bump in the road, i had a great time. it was good to be in a place that i had never been, meet new people and catch up with old friends. and ohio is beautiful. being the country girl i am, i miss, well, being in the country. or at least seeing things that take my breath away. (yes there are not a lot of those moments here in baltimore) and standing in eden park overlooking the ohio river as the sun set was a moment i DRASTICALLY needed. it was a wonderful four days and it was a little tough to come back.

exacerbating that was the fact that the Peabody community et al, will not get off of my back. my old job is hounding me to find stuff for them which i don't have a problem with (well except for the hounding), people are calling me up about recitals (still!) and everything is falling apart. how is that possible? i mean, honestly? no one wants to come back to that but i'm going to deal with it head first...after i sleep in through Stone's 1900-1945 class (sorry Dr. Stone, i really need to sleep)

so i guess the moral of the story is that good things and bad things are not independent of each other, they happen, sometimes one on top of another and you just have to deal with it the best way that you can. my way is remember all the good things in my dreams until i've squeezed all of the goodness out of them like an orange.

i will lift up my voice to the lord

one of the jobs of great art is to make us uncomfortable.

uncomfortable in the sense that it causes internal conflict, makes us rethink how we look at everything, questions our very being. you're supposed to come out of the other side, challenged, maybe even experiencing a catharsis, in the sense of a resolution. and it's an unmistakable feeling. this past sunday, i attended the performance of Bernstein's MASS at the Kennedy Center with the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra (the importance was not lost on me that the piece was written for the inauguration of that very hall) and let me tell you, i was uncomfortable. the work is not new to me but listening to the recording and seeing it live is like comparing apples to giraffes. the dramatic elements, i found, at times, spellbinding. and in the Celebrant's bel canto style mad scene, i felt the anguish to the point of fear. it was a feeling that i have not felt in quite some time. i left feeling differently about the piece (and myself), more so than i could have imagined.

now is the MASS a great work of art? that is not really for me to say. it is so underperformed and still, to this day, so controversial on so many levels that i don't know if it would ever have a chance to be considered as such. but i must thank the BSO and Maestra Alsop (and of course, Lenny, himself) for giving me something to think about. it has been a while.

post-script: i have not stopped listening to "A Simple Song" since. i think it is too beautiful. listen here
post-post-script: i just saw in my RSS reader that Charles Neidich is playing Quartet for the End of Time at Merkin Hall tomorrow. it's one of those moments that i miss NYC. as much time as i spent working with Neidich, i barely got to see him perform 20th century music.

you know nothing of madness

hormones, repressed feelings and anxiety make us do wild things.

like act like a child when you're a grown-up or act like someone who's looking to be casual and fancy free when you really want a relationship. it's the "i'll-take-anything" mentality. and sometimes, it's nice to indulge it (even at the sake of your own embarrassment) but then comes that adage of curiosity killing some cat somewhere and you realize that it could be a dangerous path.

who really wants to singe their whiskers?

especially when there might be greater things around the corner? i've grown pretty impatient with a lot of of things --- mainly, being an adult and all that comes with it; worrying about school and the economy, paying my rent, taxes, bills, and of course, wondering why i'm not married yet. so why not have dalliances and run around with people twice one's age (or the square root of one's age) and laugh and be silly in the face of such terrifying danger? because, i know better or at least, a little more. i know that if i just wait all my questions will be answered, desires and urges squashed. and as fun as it may be to have those desires, it's also a lot more fun just to be calm. (everyone else enjoys it, too)

so i'll wait, sit on my hands and stop myself from doing anything too rash. i can not get too close and still be warm.

you know, the birds who can't sleep at night

it's 1:30 in the morning and i'm sitting here at my computer, listening to Ravel's Piano Trio in A minor (III. Passacaille), ruminating over my life, as is the profound effect that music has on me when i really listen to it, wondering just what the hell is going on. i leave for raleigh not too long from now and i think that will help clear things up for me.

the beginning of this (school) year has been nothing but madness. dare i say, a continuation of the months prior with a dash of flavor to keep things interesting. i just feel like i've been kicked in the gut over and over again (even though sprenkle refers to that as what emily dickinson says great art should do) and i'm so dissatisfied. but who wants to listen to me complain?

i think everyone needed this break right about now. if ever the term "at one's wit's end" became tangible and visible, you'd see it on the face of every peabody student. not to mention the toll of what's going on in the world, in general. most of them don't have to deal with it directly because they're too young for it to have really affected them but it wears on me in a way that i can not explain. people are hurting and suffering everywhere and anyone with any bit of empathy really understands how calamitous that is.

but if i make it through october all will be well. november is the month of optimism and excitement. just about three weeks out of the month, i will be out of town and that is a glorious thing. what awaits me? i can not say but the prospects are scintillating. getting the chance to mix with people at AMS/SMT will be, no doubt, of great use to me. plus, i love nashville! everyone needs to get out every now and then.

okay, i admit it, this blog entry was a device to keep me from packing, an activity that i loathe but since i must get to bed, it can't be avoided. but i think i'll listen to the ravel one more time...

when two worlds collide

how do the mata haris of the world do it? and no i don't mean espionage and double-crossing. i mean leading two lives. it is a complicated balance that could give way at any moment. most of the time, i do it pretty well. today is an example of how i can and can't at the same time.

i found out yesterday that i have been named one of the recipients of the AMS Eileen Southern Travel Fund, a fund that has been established by the Committee on Cultural Diversity at AMS, a group that works to promotes scholarship among under-represented groups in musicology. this is, quite possibly, the best thing that's happened to me this academic year. but this fund requires me to stay at the conference for the entire time which had not been my plan due to the second Camerata concert of the season (Adams and Schoenberg, agh!) i spoke with the ensemble coordinator today, he assured me that it's not a big deal (considering that there's a great deal of time before that concert) and that i need to find a bassoonist to play for me. i felt relieved but still sad. but hey, you have to do what you have to do.

plus, everyone's really excited for me and i'm really happy that that is happening. i need something about which to be excited.

but why is there such a backlash between being a performer and being a scholar? i think the two are inextricably linked, at least they are for me. i can't give one thing up but everyone wants me to. strange...i feel like this comes from personal experience. but this is nothing new for me because i always find a way to do the things that i want to do in the way which i want to do them. i mean that's only fair, if i'm going to be posed with such decisions.

in other news, it has been raining a lot and i've done my share of crying. frustration is good because it shows that you care enough to be emotional. but being that emotional can be (and is) draining. i want the sun to come out, literally, and i want to move forward. so much of everything here is in this form of stasis and it's unnerving. also, i have to go back to counseling (for a myriad of issues) and have to learn how to not be so jealous. jealousy is a fatal flaw in most people, especially me but for some reason, i only get jealous in professional situations. another quirk on my part, i suppose.

back to the debate!

no one asks my opinion, i'm an independent.

this year has not started with a bang, like i may have previously surmised. more like a crash and possibly, a thud? i am starting to feel like an academic (oh, that word.) and the weight of all of my music academic classes is hitting me pretty hard, not to mention learning my, what, seventh language? (although, the most i can do at this point with any amount of confidence is Comment t'appelles-tu?). my analysis of an article by taruskin on the mediant relations connection between schubert/liszt and the mighty five turned out to be quite in depth and the act of plumbing the scholarly deep has left me craving for more.

next up, the first 75 pages of bach's st. matthew passion copied by hand and reverting back to the political philosophy of my past and throwing myself into all things hegelian.

the bassoon front is shaky, if that is even the right word. my thrust into the world of new music is firm --- i am working on varese's Octandre and trying to plan a chamber recital for fourth corner at an die musik while still trying to get myself to the contemporary museum of art for mobtown modern (of which the first concert i am missing RIGHT NOW) --- but the classical side is lacking? in a sea of mediocre auditions, mine was floating right at the top. yet, in the same vein, i am tapped to be a musical "senior leader", whatever that means. i am favored by the powers that be, why i don't know (it could be my playing, my charismatic personality or that i play bassoon in short skirts), whatever the reason, i am running with it, albeit that may mean running in heels...

i kind of want to get out of myself, get out of peabody. something to reconnect me to myself. and to think, my pinky toe is barely in the water. too bad that water is scalding.